The Long Way Around
by SkittleBunny117
Summary: Reliving your ancestors' lives through the animus? No problem. Going back to relive it with them? Bulls**, isn't dying supposed to be peaceful? Might contain yaoi in later chapters, don't like don't read. Desmond, Lucy, Altair, Ezio, Haytham, Conner and some OC's just for fun. Rated for swearing and mild violence.
1. Prolog: The End

Prolog: The End

A/N: Hey there so I have been away from for a really long time. I have no one to blame but myself… my bad. So this is my first time writing Assassin's creed fanfiction so if I get things wrong sorry ^^' I hope to be updating every Monday but time will tell. I'm not sure yet but there might be yaoi in this depending on how things go. Hehe.

Happy reading!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the assassin's creed games they belong to UbiSoft in all there brilliant glory.

* * *

Pain. All-consuming, unbelievable _pain_! Starting from his hand and working its way up and over the rest of his body. It feels like he has put his hand in an open flame and left it there, he can feel the skin on his hand and arm as it starts boiling and burning, can feel the bones in his fingers fussing together with the intensity of the heat. The power of the sun, the solar flares, all focused on him, _burning_ through him. All he can see is the image of Juno smiling cruelly down at him, becoming more solid, more real. The only thing that passes through his pain-filled mind is a never ending chant, _'Oh god oh god make it stop please make it stop-'_

"AAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" the scream is ripped from his throat and no matter what he does he can't remove his hand from the globe in front of him. But it does not last long and then there is nothing. Only the soothing blackness, numbness that lets him rest at long last.

* * *

The feeling of weightlessness and calm is the only thing that he has ever known. The only thing that really matters, for he has no sense of self or being, only the soothing comfort of all eternity wrapped in the endless dark. In his peace.

'_Why should I care? Here is safe, here nothing hurts.'_ He sees nothing and can feel nothing only a lingering awareness that he can't quite grasp.

'_Something that I have forgotten perhaps?'_

"Desmond." An accented voice says irately, causing said man to shutter as if he were cold. An image of a young red haired man wearing glasses, sitting in front of a computer screen with a scowl plastered on his face, flashes before his eyes. "Oh, what are you, a tiny child?" and just as quickly it's gone. Slipping through his fingers like sand through an hourglass.

'_What was that? I don't-'_

"Desmond." An overly cheerful female voice cuts across his thoughts. An image of a young raven haired girl with big headphones on slides into his mind. Sitting in front of the animus 2.0 looking exceedingly proud. "The Templars might have deeper pockets than us, but they've got no ambition, no passion, no competitive edge! That's why, even with all their resources, anything they can do I can do better. Faster, too." Then the vision shatters like glass before his eyes.

'_Wait- wait am I…supposed to be Desmond?'_

"Desmond." Dread fills him at the sound of this voice, dread and guilt. Unlike the others she walks out of the darkness, glowing brightly, chasing the darkness away, until she stands right in front of him. Blue eyes, blond hair tied in a bun, expression grim. "We're losing this war…"

"No, no, you're dead. I- fuck, I killed you I-" suddenly he knows he has a body, maybe he always did, as he tries to get away from the person in front of him. Only he can't, not really, because how do you hide from the dead? He can feel his legs give out on him, hitting the ground with a soft thump. Feels himself curl up, pressing his hands into his chest, lowering his head so he doesn't have to see. He's shaking like a leaf.

"I didn't… I love you and I-I… fuck. Please, I couldn't- please…" he sobs, it feels like someone is ripping his heart out and stitching it back in wrong. Everything aches.

A glowing foot comes into his field of vision, then a knee as she kneels down in front of him. He refuses to look up, shaking harder as wave after wave of emotions wash over him, things he hasn't felt since the darkness, since he thought he found his peace.

"Please, I'm so sorry." He whispers, whining in the back of his throat when she captures his chin and gently but firmly lifts his head up.

"It was not your fault Desmond." He shutters, closing his eyes and shaking his head, tears running down his face.

"How can you say that?" he asks.

"Desmond I forgive you, it wasn't your fault it was the Peace of Eden." She releases his chin and wraps her arms around him in a tight hug. Still he denies it because how can it not be his fault when it hurts so god damn much.

"Yes it is, yes it is, yes it is." He chants.

"No it's not, no it's not, no it's not." Lucy counters, somehow they're rocking back and forth, while she rubs soothing circles on his skin and he finds himself clinging.

He has no idea how long the two of them sit like that but slowly over time the rest of his memories come back to him. Many of them painful and some not even his at all. With every new memory he flinches because every memory is pushing him… pushing _Desmond _out of the dark and back in to the harsh unforgiving light. Finally the last piece comes and with it the end of his unstable condition. He pulls away from Lucy, just looking her over, a feeling of peace washing over him because now he knows that he's Desmond and he's dead.

* * *

A/N: Sooo good, bad, somewhere in that zone? Review and let me know! All flames will be used to bake dark-side cookies.


	2. Chapter One: Problems

Chapter one: Problems

A/N: Thank you to all that have Fav'ed and followed this fanfiction, I hope I don't let you down. One can only hope that the characters are not to ooc, if so I would love it if someone would let me know so that I may fix it in the future. :D

Happy reading!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the assassin's creed games they belong to UbiSoft in all their brilliant glory.

* * *

Desmond Miles stares into the bright blue eyes of one Lucy Stillman, the girl he loved, the girl he killed, the girl that betrayed them all. Much like Altair and his Mentor Al Mualim, all because of the Peace of Eden, all because of this stupid war. _'Beware the red cross.'_

"I'm sorry Lucy." he says again.

"Like I side before it's not your fault Desmond." She smiles a little sadly as he places a hand on her cheek, leaning in, lips inches from her own. _'Because this feels right. After all the bull-shit we've been through, this just feels right.' _

"Desmond," _'It hurts so much when she pulls away, when she rejects me.' _A pained look crosses the blonde's face for a moment before she continues, all business once again. "This isn't the end." Lucy looks away unable to face him, the man that she loved, the man that killed her, the man that she betrayed.

"What do you mean?" the assassin in-training asks. "You're dead, _I'm _dead. I sacrificed myself for the future of mankind. You can't get any more fucking dead then that." Standing up he looks down at his hand only to find that it was whole again, no evidence of the sun's touch anywhere to be seen. He doesn't know why but it makes his stomach twist uncomfortably.

"You're not dead, just merely recovering. Safely, inside the Peace of Eden, waiting until such a time that you are whole again so that you may stop Juno and bring back the Brotherhood to its former glory-"

"Bull-shit!"

"What?" she looks startled, like he's gone off script.

"You heard me. Why can't Those Who Came Before just leave me the fuck alone? I was at peace, I made my choice, my fight is supposed to be over!" He spits out pacing like a caged predator. "And what do you mean I'm inside the Peace of Eden?" she gives him a pitying look, just like the ones he remembers from all the times he came out of a Bleed.

"You're in the Apple that opened the Temple, body and mind, protected and safe, until you are ready for what Those Who Came Before have planned for you. You're_ special_ Desmond."

"Oh yeah, real fucking special all right," he snorts. "Just a bundle of ancestral DNA waiting to be unlocked, waiting to be used with no regard to what happens to me in the process. Damn!" Getting up she gently halts his pacing with a hand on his arm, she feels unnaturally warm.

"No."

"What?"

"Not this time at least. You are the one that is needed, no animus, just you…" she looks off into the distance as if she could see something that he couldn't. "Of course you will need help."

"Help?"

"Refinement, a guiding hand to shape you into what is needed." Lucy continues to stare into the distance.

"What's needed?" he asks hesitantly, scared of the answer. Lucy's blue eyes meet Desmond's amber ones.

"A leader, a guiding hand in the darkness. Someone who will destroy Juno and her plans and save the Brotherhood, save the Assassins from eternal sleep. A savior, a hero, a-"

"Whoa whoa whoa whoa. Now hold on just a minute, you cannot be serious." He stares slacked jawed. "I can't be those things, I couldn't even save myself! What makes you think I can save someone else? This is so fucked!" She gives him a familiar dirty look. "Sorry, but it is!"

"What do you want me to do about it?"

He opens his mouth to answer then snaps it shut with a click.

"What?" he takes a step back from her.

"I said, what do you want me to do about it?" she repeats. He takes another step back and just stares.

"This is the same."

"Desmond?" her face contorts into a frown, eyebrows pinching.

"It's the same, it's the same conversation we had back at Abstergo when we first met. The same facial expressions and body posture, just like I remember it down to the last detail." Then Lucy glitches much like Clay. "Shit! What- who are you?!"

"It is time," The darkness starts to light up, he can see the gold curved walls and follows the dancing patterns up to the blinding light that makes up the roof. "To be reborn, to live again and with time start anew. Yes, in time." He snaps his eyes to her only to lose the blond in the all-consuming light from above.

"Lucy-" he covers his eye with his arms.

"Good luck, Desmond Miles."

* * *

A white robed man climbs up the side of a building with the ease and precision that can only be gained through years of training. The hot sun beating down on him as he does so. Reaching the top he takes off running in the direction of the local market, hoping to find his target there like the novice said he would be. If he was not there then he would just have to keep looking until he found him. He could not fail in this.

Running over the roof tops and clearing the gaps between the buildings without a second thought, it was second nature by now, he finally lands on the one he needs. Evoking eagle vision he scans the area looking for the tell-tale gold of his target. He spots the man standing by a merchant stall that is selling inks and paper. Returning to normal sight he jumps off the building, preforming a perfect Leap of Faith in to the waiting hay below, and blends into the crowd as he makes his way ever closer.

His target leaves the vender and heads in the direction of a deserted alleyway leading off of the market place, he follows a short distance away. After a little while the opportunity finally presents itself to strike.

"Malik, what are you going to do about this problem of ours?"

Said man turns around in an irritated fashion. "Oh, hello Altair, it's been such a long time. How have you been? Me, I'm fine thanks for asking." he deadpans.

"This is not the time for niceties, we have a real problem."

"No, you have a problem, I was buying ink." He says nodding pointedly at the bag at his side. Altair grounds his teeth.

"Malik, that _novice _is going to drive me crazy. Do you know what he did this morning? He tripped over a fruit cart, an immobile one! In front of the guards! Fruit went everywhere! I had to save the idiot and he nearly toke my head off with his blade after he tripped on the fruit he knocked on the ground! And that was before breakfast! This is not funny!" Malik was chuckling, a look of triumph on his face.

"He's not that bad, he just needs someone to teach him focus, to see his surroundings and if you are unable to teach even that I weep for the future of our brotherhood." The bureau leader states, starting again to walk.

"Well it's a good thing you like him so much then."

"Why? Like I said before he is your problem and I have better things to be doing with my time then talking to you."

"Actually he is _our _problem seeing as I have left him in your bureau."

"You did what?" Altair smirks as Malik's voice turns to one of horror. But before he can give a mocking retort there is a blinding flash of gold light. They both cover their eyes.

When Altair is able to see again he's not quite sure what to think. There, standing before them, is an oddly dressed young man. The white robes the stranger is wearing only go down to his hips and his trousers were made of an odd blue material. Altair releases his hidden blade and Malik pulls out his dagger. The stranger flinches at the sound of the blades being unsheathed and slowly lowers the arms that he had in front of his face.

"Altair… Malik… What the… how?" a pained look crosses the boy's frightening familiar face before his eyes roll back in his head and he crumples to the ground, convulsing like he is possessed. Altair, for once in a long time, did not know what to do.

* * *

A/N: Ok, so I will admit that this is a fix-it fic, I know there's a lot out there but I just couldn't help it. Desmond ate shit, he deserves a better ending! Anyway review please so that I know what you think and where I can improve. All flames will be used to fuel my rage beast, RRRWWWAAAA!


	3. Ch 2: Ninth or Tenth Great-Grandfather

Chapter two: Ninth or Tenth Great-Grandfather

A/N: I'm so sorry for the late update but I was writing this chapter when I realized that I have a big plot but did not write it down yet and I couldn't move forward until I did. Ooops. But there will be an update on Monday too so that's good yeah? Also I would like to thank my beta reader _TimidBookworm_ for putting up with all my lousy last minute changes, and tense, and grammar…

_TimidBookworm:_ And spelling? Don't forget your spelling.

SkittleBunny: Yes, yes, my spelling too. If you keep this up I'll send Altair after you. I can do that, I have FanFiction powers!

_TBW:_ Malik would shield me, and that's assuming Altair can decode his orders from you.

SB: I'm ending this conversation, I have that power too. Again sorry for the late update it shouldn't happen again.

Happy Reading!

Disclaimer: I don't own Assassin's Creed or its characters they belong to the wonderful Ubisoft.

* * *

Malik looks at the stranger tensely, never dropping his guard._ 'Is this stranger demon possessed? How else can he know our names if he is not? Clearly something is very wrong here.'_ Glancing over at Altair proves that he too has not lowered his guard. _'But then again I'm not the one the stranger decided to copy the face of.' _Altair takes a tentative step toward the still convulsing boy, weapon pulled back as if to strike if the face stealer should make a wrong move. He reaches the young man's side and bends down to get a better look-

BANG! CLANG! "Oof… what did I hit?"

Malik spins around, weapon at the ready for whatever comes his way, only to find the novice they had just been talking about not two minutes ago was sprawled across the ground with broken crates and pottery around him. Malik gives an irritated sight at the display of stealth… or lack thereof.

Altair scoffs at the poor man, slowly coming out of his defensive stance. _'So much for environmental awareness.'_

"Shoot, I think I cut myself."

"Farooq, what are you doing here? I thought I told you to stay in the bureau." Altair's voice is tense and layered with frustration.

"Well, you see…um…-"

Suddenly the stranger groans, inhaling sharply and grabbing everyone's attention once more. Looking again the oddly dressed man looks worse than before, his face ashen with dark circles under his eyes, limbs and fingers locked while shacking madly, head thumping the ground. But even as Malik watched the conventions are already slowing down becoming twitches, then to nothing at all. A tense silence fills the air around them.

"So, mind telling me what all that's about?" Farooq asks cautiously picking himself off the ground and dusting bits of pottery from his robes. "Huh, he looks just like you, only, you know, lighter." Altair stiffens at the mention of his likeness to the stranger.

"Yes, we can see that, thank you. The question is; what are we going to do with… it?" Altair says left hand twitching, playing with the release mechanism on his hidden blade.

"We cannot compromise the Brotherhood. This should be dealt with quickly." Malik states firmly.

"Right." Altair crouches back down, drawing his arm back and releases his hidden blade.

"Wait." Both men look at the concerned face of their novice… _'When did he become 'ours'? Curse you Altair.'_ Malik thinks. "You can't kill him. It would go against the Creed. Stay your blade of the flesh of the innocent." Altair bares his teeth at Farooq, clearly not needing the reminder.

"He stole my face." He hisses.

"Is that a crime? Besides, you're still wearing yours." Farooq points out casually. Sighing, the Bureau Leader rubs the bridge of his nose.

"He is right Altair. As much as it pains me to say it this… young man, has done nothing to us. He is, by the tenants of the Creed, an innocent."

"He is no innocent." He seethes.

"Oh?" _'Has Altair used his Eagle Vision on the stranger? Maybe Altair saw something that can pin the man as an enemy and this can be resolved easily.' _"What do you see?" Altair looks sharply at that, obviously angry at what he discovered.

"He is blue." He says reluctantly.

"Then that means he's an-"

"But he has gold in the middle."

Malik blinks than blinks again. "What? Has this ever happened before?"

"…No."

Farooq just looks lost, looking between the two of them. Malik sighs softy. "Why can't anything be easy when it comes to you Altair?"

The Master Assassin grunts looking miffed at the Bureau Leader then locks his eyes on the man beside him, frowning.

"If you're not going to kill him we really need to get him to a monk so that he can be looked after." Malik turns his head toward Farooq with a raised eyebrow. "He is still fighting off the demon inside him, hence why he is still unconscious." He looks at both of his superiors' worriedly. "It's the medically sound thing to do in this situation." His hands have come up and down to emphasis his point, a look of determination plastered on his face.

"Can't you do anything about this?" Altair says shortly.

"This is way out of my area of expertise." Farooq denies.

Clicking his tongue, Altair stands up and walks past Farooq and the mouth of the alley. Farooq follows his movements.

"Altair…?"

"Hurry up and get him them I haven't got all day." The Master Assassin turns back and locks eyes with Malik, conveying that even if he is not happy about this he still wants answers from the stranger.

"Huh… right, right. Just a minute!" Farooq says rushing over to the prone figure on the ground almost tripping in his haste.

* * *

Desmond comes around to the smell of incense and the sounds of praying. He slowly cracks open his eyes to see a slanted roof overhead. Tilting his head he sees stained glass windows, then suddenly he is hit in the face with cool water. He automatically snaps his eyes shut and sits bolt upright as he sputters unhappily.

"Hey, what the hell man?"

The holy-looking man paused in his prayer. "Ah, my son, it has been a difficult trial but it seems that we were successful in casting out the demon from within you."

"Demon? Wait, did you just hit me in the face with Holy Water?" Desmond asks in confusion and indignation. Suddenly, the room starts to spin and a wave of drowsiness washes over him.

"Yes, from the description your brother and friends gave me of what happened, I quickly gathered what was necessary to purge the evil from your being. To cleanse your body, mind and soul." The kindly old man says while helping Desmond lie back down on the white, clean bed.

"…brother?" Desmond asks following the man's every move with his eyes as he starts to pack up his things.

"Yes, he seemed quite reluctant to be here but very intent on everything that I did. It was a struggle to get him to leave the room so that I could work. It was his one-armed companion that eventually got him to leave… but I see no harm now in letting him see you, you have made far greater progress then I thought."

'_Wait, demons, one armed men and I have a brother that I did not have when I woke up last… what the hell is going on here?'_ After putting away the last of his supplies the monk turns and walks out the door.

"He is stable and is able to have visitors but he is still very weak from his ordeal I would advise against disturbing him. He needs all his strength to recover fully." Desmond hears the monk say just outside the open door.

"Yes, of course. Would it be alright if we stayed with him over night? I am reluctant to leave him alone." A stern voice says.

"Of course my child, it must have been difficult to watch your own brother fall victim to the darker forces around us."

"…yes."

"Is there anything we must do to prevent this from happening again?" a soft voice asks, full of curiosity and awe.

"Just pray for his full recovery and in a couple of hours I will be back to change the herbs that are burning in the room."

"Thank you Father." Says a third, firm voice.

'_Shit, I know those voices!' _Desmond watches the door as intently as possible with his blurry, tired eyes. The first person to walk into the room is, surprisingly, someone Desmond doesn't know but was wearing the white and grey robes of a novice assassin, his hood pulled back and out of his face. His short black hair has a shaggy quality to it, verging on falling into his eyes. Eyes that are a light sandy brown that sparkle with curiosity upon seeing Desmond awake, a big grin spreading across his pixy-like face. When he gives a small wave Desmond can see bandages covering most of his fingers.

"Hi, it's nice to see that you're awake." He says cheerily. The best Desmond can do is nod his head, his tongue feeling heavy.

* * *

Altair pushes passed the novice as he enters the room closely followed by Malik. Looking at the boy lying on the bed it is hard to deny what the monk had said about them being brothers. They look so similar the only real big different being that of their clothing and hair style, though if one looked closely they could see that the stranger has softer features, more rounded around his face giving him a gentler look, and his hair is lighter as is his skin tone. Huffing in announce Altair leans back against the wall opposite and crosses his arms. He's letting Farooq do the talking… as he's the least intimidating of the three.

"I'm Farooq, this is Malik and Altair." he pauses giving the stranger a chance to say something. When he does it comes out slightly slurred.

"Desmond…"

"Desmond, are you from England then?" Farooq asks curiously trying to keep Desmond talking. There is a long pause before he speaks again.

"…I'm from across the sea… you wouldn't have heard of it."

"Why not try me? You never know right?" the man just smiles tiredly.

"Across the sea but much farther then Britain, we call it America." He says, his eyes fluttering a couple of times before snapping back open, focusing on Altair and becoming sharper and more intent. "I came across by a golden apple… This is not my home, not my time…"

"Uhhmm…" Farooq looks lost on what to do now, but Malik has caught on to the implications well enough. _'The Apple of Eden but how? I have it stored away. If what the stranger says is true…' _

"Then how did you know our names when you first got here?" Malik demands. Desmond looks distinctly uncomfortable.

"Like I said, this isn't my time."

Farooq looks completely confused. "That makes absolutely no sense."

"Explain yourself." says Malik.

"There is a reason we both look the same Altair… why I know your names… but you will not believe me."

"Try me." The Master Assassin grits out, tired of not getting the answers he wants, flicking his left wrist.

"Yeah, alright, okay so, I know your names because of this machine back home that allows you to relive your ancestors lives… I lived your life from the beginning of Solomon's Temple to the downfall of Al Mualim. I saw you kill all nine Templars and redeem yourself in the eyes of your brotherhood. I saw you were unable to destroy the Apple, I saw the map." His eyes flutter again but he fights it. "So I guess this is hi, to my…. Ninth or tenth great grandfather." With that the young man's eyes flutter one last time and stay shut. "Told you, you wouldn't… believe… me." He doesn't speak again his breath coming in slow gentle gusts, the rise and fall of his chest that of someone in a deep sleep.

"Altair-" Malik starts, breaking the heavy silence that had followed.

"I know."

"But this can't be possible."

"What can't be possible?" Farooq asks.

"If what he said is true then he is Altiar's decadent and he's from the early…twenty first century. It's just not possible…" Malik ends lamely.

"It also means that he would have to have his own Peace of Eden." Altair looks back at the young man in disbelief and confusion.

* * *

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed! Now I must go feed the beta reader some dark side cookies so she doesn't go all 'RWAR!'

_TBW:_ I'm not that bad, you make me sound horrible. And even if I was you'd still love me.

SB: _I'm_ the terrible human being then. Anyways, R&amp;R and have a wonderful night! :D


End file.
